


Midnight Snacks:  Five Things Tom Paris Eats In Bed

by phinnia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.   I know someone who actually eats the third thing.   Probably without chocolate milk.





	1. Chapter 1

  
**1.  Pizza**  
  
“My mother never let me have food in the bedroom.”   Harry says.     
  
“You’re missing out on so much, Har.  Pizza is meant for eating in bed.   Or in the morning, cold for breakfast.  Or in the middle of the night, drunk.   Pizza is the ultimate food.   Nutritious, delicious.  You can eat it at all meals.”  
  
“But you drop toppings everywhere.”  
  
“Yeah, so?”  
  
“And then we get olives and mushrooms stuck to us later.”  
  
Tom’s look said he didn’t really see the problem.

  
  
**2.  Peanut butter and leola root**  
  
“What is that?”   Harry said.  “It looks like leola root.”  
  
“It ish.”   Tom said with his mouth full, then swallowed.   “Leola root and peanut butter.   You slice up the leola root, then you put the peanut butter between two slices.  It’s actually really good.”  
  
“Tom, that’s _disgusting_.”     
  
“Here, try some.  If you put enough peanut butter on it, it doesn’t even taste like leola root anymore.”  
  
“You could probably say the same thing if you put enough _warp injector coolant_ on it.”     
  
“Yeah, but that shit'll kill you.”  
  
  
**3.   Peanut butter and pickle sandwiches**  
  
“Are you possessed by an alien life form?”   Harry ran his tricorder over Tom, but there didn’t seem to be any strange readings.   Just the same old Tom.   He looked at the jar again.   It was indeed pickles.   The other one was peanut butter.  
  
Harry felt a bit sick.    
  
“Could be pregnant.”   Tom said.   “I don’t know, never been pregnant before.   Doc’ll have to do a C-section ‘cause I don’t wanna think about where that baby’s comin’ out.”     He took a large bite of the sandwich.   “Why, what’s wrong?”  
  
Harry decided that this sandwich was reason enough to take him down to sickbay, since it was the Delta Quadrant and pregnancy or alien posession could actually not be ruled out.     
  
Tom insisted on bringing the sandwich.  
  
Harry tried not to think about the sandwich.  
  
“Mr. Paris is not actually pregnant.”   The Doctor confirmed.   “And he is not possessed by an alien life form.  He just has very strange culinary habits.   _Very_ strange culinary habits.”  
  
“Can I go now?”   Tom asked around his sandwich.   “I need some chocolate milk with this.”  
  
“Can I get an anti-nauseant before we leave, Doc?”   Harry asks.  
  
“Of course.   If I weren’t a hologram, I’d be getting one for myself.”     
  
  
**4.  Chocolate chip cookies**  
  
  
“My mother makes better cookies than this.”   Tom mentions once when he’s staring out at the darkness in the middle of the night, watching the stars go by.  
  
“I didn’t know your mother baked.”  Harry says from the pillow next to him.  
  
“Sometimes.   Every now and again she would.”  
  
Harry keeps silent and watches his lover sit against the pillows in the bed; a pale statue, silent and still.   He knows if he doesn’t talk Tom will keep talking.   Tom doesn’t mention his family much.   Most of what he knows about Tom’s family he’s learned through stories and drunken slips and suppositions.  
  
And middle-of-the-night conversations like this one.     
  
“She sent me packages once or twice.   When I was at the Academy.  It was ridiculous, I mean.  My parents live just outside of San Francisco, but she sent it to me anyway.   Big care package.   To my room.  Peanut butter, coffee, homemade cookies.  She wrote me a letter on real paper.   I still have it in a locker back home.  Told me all the gossip she’d gotten from her hairstylist.   She sent me one in Auckland, too.”   He laughs, a small huff of a laugh.  “Of course, the guards searched it and ate all the food before I got to it, so all I got were crumbs.  But it’s the thought that counts, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”   Harry runs his hand over Tom’s thigh.  “It is.”  
  
“I wish she could send cookies all the way out here.”  
  
“Me too.”   He smiles up at Tom.   He’d give anything to taste some of his grandmother’s _dasik_ right now.    He wonders if Tom’s ever tried it, whether he’d like it.     
  
When they get home, he’ll find out.  
  
**5.   Harry Kim**  
  
He licked up one side of Harry’s cock and down the other, then swirled around the head with his tongue and lips for a long minute, just to tease.     
  
“Mmm.”   Harry moaned, still mostly asleep, and Tom grinned to himself and set to work.     
  
Tongue, lips, teeth.   They were all part of the experience.   Mostly tongue, he’d found over the years, although if he relaxed his throat muscles just so, he’d be able to take Harry in in one deep swallow - _Tommy Does the Delta Quadrant_ , big sequel to _Tommy Does Down Under._  
  
Well, these days it was really just _Tommy Does Harry_.     
  
He grinned to himself again and kept sucking.  
  
“Mmm.”   Sleepy hands carded through his hair.   “Ohh.”  
  
He started humming a bit and felt the cock inside his mouth firm.  He licked it like an ice cream cone, a frozen treat on the beach, but better, because it tasted like Harry.   His tongue spiraled up and down again.    
  
Mmm.     
  
Yeah.  
  
The hands in his hair started tugging.  
  
His tongue kept sliding in and out, around the sweet warmth, and then Harry spills in his mouth and moans, bucking his hips.   Tom swallowed and peered up at Harry cheekily from under the blanket.   “Morning.”  
  
“Hi.”   Harry murmurs, voice still rough with sleep.   “We’re not on until beta shift.”   And he grabs Tom to his chest and pulls him close.  
  
Tom smiles and drifts off to sleep.     
  



	2. Champagne Is Just Ginger Ale that Knows Somebody:  Five Things That Harry Kim Drinks In Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing is an actual drink. Never had it myself. Just heard about it.

**1.  Half and half**  
  
“That stuff looks _revolting_.   What is it?  Something of Neelix’s?”  
  
“Half and half.”  
  
Tom looked at Harry like he was completely nuts.   “Obviously _expired_.   That is not going anywhere _near_ my coffee.”  
  
“No, no.   Half iced tea, half lemonade.   Try it!”  
  
He sniffed it delicately and shoved it back at Harry.   “Uh, no thanks.   I like my beverages in separate containers.”  
  
“This, coming from a man who eats peanut butter and pickle sandwiches washed down with chocolate milk.”  
  
“Yeah, but I don’t _mix_ stuff.   Brush your teeth before you kiss me after drinking that.”  
  
“Oh, sure.   You’ll go down on me, but the taste of lemonade and iced tea is too disgusting to think about.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
  
**2.  Raktajinos**  
  
Tea reminds him of home.   He didn’t pick up his coffee habit until he went to the Academy and started pulling late-nighters, found that even heavily caffeinated teas didn’t really cut it.   He likes his raktajinos sweet and hot, with a lot of sugar in them, and cream.   Light.   He drinks them in the middle of the afternoon when he’s pulling gamma shift and he drinks them in the middle of the night on weekends when he’s trying to keep up with Tom’s boundless energy.     
  
If they could harness half of Tom’s restlessness, they could probably get home sooner, but then Harry wouldn’t have nearly as much fun after hours.    
  
  
**3.   Wine**  
  
He never really gave much thought to wine before he met Tom Paris.  It was just something you’d buy for a night out or a housewarming gift.      
  
But then he’d noticed something.   Tom, for all of his seemingly lowbrow tastes (Captain Proton, cartoons, and flirting being only the first three he could think up) could identify wines without even looking at the label.     
  
He almost _never_ had to look at the label.     
  
“How did you learn so much about wine?”  he asks Tom after their third date.    It’s a personal question, but by now, since he’s seen Tom naked and heard a lot of his stories, he thinks he might have a right to a few personal questions.     
  
“My parents have a few bottles.”   Tom says, shrugging.     
  
“A few?”  
  
“Well, a bit more than a few.”  
  
“How _many_ more than a few?”  
  
“Okay, a cellar.”  
  
“Your parents have a wine _cellar_?”   Harry almost spits the last of his wine out at that, and he sets the glass down on the bedside table.     “Holy _shit_ , Tom.    How did they get a wine cellar?”  
  
“Inherited it from my grandmother.”  
  
“They … _inherited it from your grandmother_.”   He looked suspiciously at Tom.   “Your family’s loaded, aren’t they?”  
  
Tom smiled that smile that meant ‘can we talk about something else?’  
  
“Well?”    He wasn’t letting this go, now that he’d gotten hold of it.  
  
A pause.  “They are, a little bit.”     
  
He ran that through his Tom Paris-to-English translator.   Came out to  ‘Yes’.  “And how long have you been drinking wine?”     
  
“Um … since I was eight?”   Now Tom’s ears are turning pink.  
  
Harry’s jaw drops.  
  
“Not whole glasses, Harry.   It was educational.   Just sips.  Wine tastings.”  
  
“I’ve been sleeping with a lush.”   Harry mutters to himself.     
  
This makes Tom laugh and then Harry knocks him over on the bed and the conversation is forgotten for the moment.    
  
  
**4.   Bubble tea**  
  
  
“Okay, your drink has stuff in the bottom.   It has spores.    Something else Neelix made for you?   Or some other weird thing you mixed up?”  
  
“Try it.”  
  
Tom sniffed it.  It smelled more or less harmless.   Like mangoes.   He tried a sip.   “Hey, this is pretty good.   What are the spores for?”  
  
Harry sighed at him, that kind of sigh that says ‘you’re hopeless, but I love you anyway’.    “They aren’t spores.   They’re bubbles.”     
  
“They aren’t floating.  Bubbles float.”    Tom poked one with the straw.   It was … jelly-ish.     
  
“Some people call them bobas.  I prefer bubbles.   It’s just tapioca.”  
  
He shoved the drink back at Harry.   “Ugh!”  
  
“Afraid of _tapioca_?”  
  
“My sister used to tell me that tapioca was an undiscovered alien species.   She was ten years older than I was.   Out here, who knows what kind of mischief tapioca could get mixed up with?”  
  
“Like those macroviruses.”  Harry grinned.   “Tapioca macroviruses.   Radioactive tapioca.”  
  
“ _Exactly_!”  
  
  
**5.   Tom Paris**  
  
  
The first time he kissed Tom it was just after he’d been lost in that timestream.   He’d been feeling odd about seeing Libby again, even though it hadn’t been the real Libby, and when he saw Tom in the bar in Marseilles, he wanted to walk over to him and knock him backwards on the pool table and kiss him senseless.     
  
Awkward.     
  
Which is why he was so relieved when Tom was back on Voyager.     
  
So he decided that since he owed him something, he might as well start with dinner, and went to Tom’s quarters after shift.     
  
Tom looks up at him from the bed, looking ridiculously appealing and confused.   He sets down the padd he was reading from.   “Did you want something?”  
  
“Yeah.”   Harry said, sat down next to him on the bed, took a deep breath, knocked him over, and kissed him until he was senseless.  
  
Tom’s eyes were very blue and very surprised, but he had good reflexes (Harry had always admired that) and wasn’t about to be caught napping.   He started kissing him back before two seconds had passed, nudging his tongue against Harry’s lips.      Harry grinned and opened his mouth, and he bit Tom’s lower lip gently.    
  
“Yeah.”   Tom whispered into his mouth.    
  
Tom’s hands were already untucking his undershirt.   Harry wriggled out of the stupid uniform jacket and shoved Tom’s off, too, redirecting his attention to Tom’s chin and neck.   He nipped there and got a whisper of a moan.  
  
“You can bite me harder, you know.”  Tom murmured, working on Harry’s uniform top.  “I like it.”  
  
“It’ll bruise.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He nipped Tom harder on the neck, hard enough to bruise and high enough for people to notice, and Tom grinned at him wickedly.   “That’s more like it.”  
  
Harry had thought about licking down Tom’s chest but decided to start at the navel instead, licking and nipping, pulling Tom’s pants down with his teeth.     
  
“Those are not regulation underwear.”  He says, laughing at Tom’s Bugs Bunny boxers.  
  
“Do I look like a regulation kinda guy?”   Tom grins at him.   “What, you gonna report me?   How you gonna explain this?”  
  
“I _should_ report you.”   Harry grins back.  
  
“You _should_ do a lot of things.”   Tom rubbed up against him.   “While you’re down there.”  
  
“Like what?”   He looks up at Tom with mock innocence in his eyes, and then licks the cock in front of him experimentally a few times, trying to remember what used to work.   He takes Tom into his mouth and surprisingly, it comes back to him.  It’s like riding a bike, only less awkward, because he was better at this.     
  
He tries the slightest hint of teeth here, just a graze, and finds it makes Tom moan louder this time.   Then he feels a hand around his own cock, smoother than he’d expected it to be, long-fingered, and he couldn’t figure out whether to concentrate on the sucking he was doing or the amazing long-fingered hand around himself.     
  
“Wait, wait.”    Harry gasped.  
  
“Can’t walk and chew gum at the same time, Harry?”   Tom laughed.  “I thought I was the blonde one.”  
  
He looked up crossly.   “I could just stop.”  
  
“No, no, I never said anything.”   And Tom looked so innocent Harry had to laugh and go back to what he was doing - sucking, nipping, licking, evoking more and more gasps and moans.   He watches Tom’s face.     
  
He looks delicious when he comes - eyes fluttering, mouth slightly open and wet, lips parted.    
  
The only thing better than Harry going down on Tom, Harry finds out, is Tom going down on Harry.   He says he took an extensive study course in Auckland.   It takes Harry three days to figure out that he meant ‘prison’ by that, and he starts working on his ‘Tom Paris-to-English’ translator.   It’s private and in his head, but he’ll be using it for a while, he thinks.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
